My First Caning.

I first got the cane in the second year of secondary school, aged 13. One breaktime another boy and I decided to sneak out of school by climbing over a low fence behind the bikesheds to go to a local sweetshop. Unfortunately on our return we were caught by a prefect who duly entered our names and forms into his notebook.

The next day at assembly it was announced that we were to report to the Deputy Head's room at morning break. This of course meant an agony of waiting, as I was pretty sure what our fate would be.

At breaktime we reported to the Deputy's room. His manner was firm, but not harsh. He said that what we had done was quite unacceptable and that we were each to receive three strokes of the cane to discourage such behaviour in future. He then unlocked a narrow cupboard on the wall and took from it a yellowish-coloured, crook-handled cane. To my naive eyes it looked too slender and feeble to cause much pain. How mistaken I was!

He then placed a chair beside his desk, told me to stand against the wall, and instructed the other lad to bend over the back of the chair and to hold onto the seat, which he did. Sir made some slight changes to the boy's position, folded up the tail of his blazer, and pulled the seat of his trousers tight, smoothing the fabric over his bottom. He then took up position to commence the caning.

Sir tapped the boy's backside once or twice, taking aim, and then he administered the first stroke. To my surprise he didn't lift the cane very high, but rather using a combination of the cane's natural springiness and a well-practised wrist action, he sort of flicked the cane across the lad's buttocks.

The cane made a sharp THWACK! on impact, the lad's body bucked markedy, and he let out a sort of gasp. Sir paused briefly before applying each of the following two strokes..

When the caned boy was allowed to stand up his hands shot straight to his tortured buttocks which he didn't rub, but rather clutched. Suprisingly he wasn't crying, but he was sort of panting, and making little moaning sounds. Now it was my turn.

I bent over the chair, the necessary adjustments were made as before, and then THWACK! I received the first stroke. It was agony - as has been said before, like having a red-hot wire pressed against your bum. My inclination was to leap up, but I managed to stay in position, and duly received the rest of my punishment. Whether or not I had made any noise during my ordeal, I really didn't know, but I think I must have - I can't imagine having suffered that in silence.

On being allowed up my hands shot to my buttocks too - my backside was on fire! It was too sore to rub, and I pressed my hands to my burning rear, desperate for some relief.Sir put aside the chair and cane, entered the details of our whacking in a sort of ledger, which he got us to sign, and admonished us briefly about our future behavior. He then dismissed us, and although break was now over, he told us to 'sort yourselves out' before going to our next lesson.

We both promptly shot off to the toilets where we briefly inspected the damage, had a pee, and washed our faces.

When we arrived at our lesson, the teacher required no explanation - he knew where we had been, and he even cracked a wry joke about our 'ordeal by fire'.

Sitting on those hard wooden chairs was no picnic, but within an hour or two the discomfort had decreased significantly, although some soreness, and after that a degree of residual tenderness, lasted for quite some time.

Yes a skilful caner sort of flicks the wrist like a fly fisherman...that generates the speed the cane lands with and really is the cause of that searing sting...accuracy and speed...in a "two inch group" low and across the sit spots as my Headmaster used to say

Yes he had. He had received a full six during his first few weeks for fighting in the playground. He had been made to touch his toes and had to stand alongside the other lad, hands on head for ten minutes after the beating. He told me it had been "f.....g murder" and that the marks had lasted for two or three days, though by the time he told me this time they had disappeared. He told me that when he got home that night he had rubbed some of his mum's hand cream into his sore bum.

Grumwit you must have been very fearfull ..but when he said 3 strokes did you get your hopes up a little that it wouldn't be as bad as Tony said...and how much was it would have been if it was hands on head for 10 minutes

Nothing is of comfort when your about to be caned is it...the first time is always remembered..one minute your comfortable in your skin..then like a red hot wire held against your bottom the searing sting of that first cut simply sends you into agony...wouldn't you agree

Then for me as I danced about in agony there was the fight I had to stop my uncontrolled crying...I simply wailed..not sobs..bawled ...sounding like a three year old with a tooth ache...just awful...I was such a blub ...

Then back to class teary ..there was no going to the toilets...Mr Monroe had you go from his office to the class...I haven't touched on this before but we had women teachers for a lot of subjects..I found it very embarrassing..coming back to class crying like a little boy hardly able to sit

What an unsympathetic cow! The cane was intended to hurt and it did. Of course kids were often in distress after a beating. The infliction of pain was the punishment - I don't think that public embarrassment should have been added as an extra element.

canings were everyday happenings..you were expected to cope with your backside stinging and smarting ...only a very few didn't come back to class teary but her remark just got to me that day...sarcasm was used a lot..and is the lowest form of wit imho

The slipper hurt - as it struck your backside, it was as if you had sat down brieflyon a hot surface - and after a few whacks the pain could be quite intense. However, the discomfort faded pretty quickly. The cane delivered a more penetrating sting - like someone had pressed a red-hot wire against your flesh and held it there - and the soreness and discomfort lasted significantly longer.

does seem like my canings, only my first time i was 12. i had 2 strokes and they stung like hell. the headmaster swung his arm right back as i seem to remember. when i stood up the sting continued and got worse. i had tears in my eyes but never rubbed my bottom, although i wanted to. 3 weeks i had marks on my bottom...